


Voices in the snow

by FedonCiadale



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 02:05:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13020948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedonCiadale/pseuds/FedonCiadale
Summary: Jon tries to come to terms with the fact that he is a Targaryen and that the alliance against the White Walkers broke to pieces.





	Voices in the snow

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Jonsaexchange at tumblr for 'redwolf1283'. This one shot assumes that 'Political Jon' is true and that Dany will turn into an antagonist.

_‘You know nothing, Jon Snow’._ Ygritte said.

 _‘You know nothing, Jon Snow’._ Mellisandre said.

 _‘You know nothing, Jon Snow’._ Ygritte said.

It is as if Jon just can’t stop hearing their voices in his head. For once he does not yearn for tranquillity. He would gladly be in a noisy hall right now, men drinking ale, trading insults or stories. Anything to drown out the voices. For once, Ghost presence is no consolation either. As Jon wanders through the snow, aimlessly, he wishes that Ghost would howl. He’d like to howl himself, lose himself in the moment of the hunt. He could join in hunting some deer, become one with his wolf, lose himself in the easy and uncomplicated needs of the wolf. But the voices would probably follow him.

He could drink himself into oblivion, but getting ale would mean that he would have to face somebody. Briefly, he ponders if he should go to the weirwood tree, but he doubts that the unblinking red eyes of the tree would feel comfortable right now. The crypts come to his mind, but the thought makes him give a short bark of a laugh.

 _‘I’ll tell you about your mother when we’ll see each other again’._ That sentence comes to him unbidden, and the voices pick it up. It feels strange, that Ygritte says these words in his head.

So, he drags his feet through the snow, the voices in his head, his fingers are already numb, and by the position of the sun, that does not warm the cold and frosty air, he has been walking in circles for hours. His ragged breath leaves flags of white in the air.

_‘You know nothing, Jon Snow. ‘_

_‘I’ll tell you about your mother.’_

_‘I’ve seen them. I’ll fight with you against them.’_ This was Daenerys’ voice. What a jest! He could have known that this was just said in the spur of a moment. Nothing he had done, had prevented the disaster. _It was all for nothing._

Jon cursed as his foot hit a stone. The sudden pain in his cold feet felt like he was stabbed, and his foot began to tingle. _I must go inside, or I’ll freeze to death._ Already he was feeling tired, although the lack of sleep of the last weeks might have caught up with him as well.

 _It would be nice to just lay down and sleep._ A part of him knew this to be dangerous thoughts, but a part of him would welcome the feeling of drifting of into nothingness. _Let others take up the burden. The North doesn’t want me anyway. And why should they?_

 _‘You must be smarter than Robb. You must be smarter than father’._ The other voices in his head stopped suddenly, when Sansa’s pleading voice spoke to him.

Jon stopped in his tracks and found himself calling out loud. “I tried Sansa, I tried to be smarter! If I just had known….” Ghost put a distance to him. Jon could feel that Ghost was shocked at the sudden noise.

His own voice sounded strange in his ears. Still, he continued shouting: “I did not know! If I had known, I would never have left.” _I would never have left you._

“I wanted her dragons. I wanted her dragons to fight for us.” Somehow, it felt good to just stand and shout. _And if Daenerys ever comes back, I doubt she’ll fight with me now._   _I wonder if I even want that._ Ghost traced his steps back and bolted away. Even his direwolf didn’t want anything to do with him.

Jon began cursing, loudly, he cursed his friend Sam. Sam, gentle Sam, who had been so upset about the news from his family and about the destruction of King’s Landing, that he had burst into the Great Hall and had spilled it all out. How the Red Keep was no more, how Queen Daenerys had burned the city. Cersei dead, and if the raven message Sam had read out had it true, along King’s Landing the Golden Company was ashes.

It felt good to curse aloud. That drowned out the voices. “You couldn’t just hold your mouth, Sam, just for a time.” Nobody would hear him, Jon already felt somewhat relieved. “No, you had to burst in, getting them all riled up against Daenerys, Daenerys the burner, they call her.” _Not unjustified._

Tyrion Lannister for once had been speechless, pale and very ill at ease. It was good that he had not spoken up, Jon doubted, that it would have been a good idea to remind the Northern Lords of the presence of this Lannister guest and hand to the Targaryen queen.

Jon cursed Lord Royce. The lord from the Vale had openly talked rebellion after the news from King’s Landing and voiced his opinion that a great council and an election of a fit king would be in order. Somebody, Jon did not remember who, had brought up Jon as a candidate. “Why did you think of me? I know nothing, I’m not fit to plan the next day, yet alone a long war.”

Jon continued shouting. Now, it was Jaime Lannister he cursed. “Of all the times to find your lost honour it had to be the very moment we were preparing for the only war that counts. Could you not have delayed longer? Could you not have told us, that Cersei’s army would come after you? No, you had to run to Brienne and tell her, that your sword was the only one we’d get from the South?”

The scene unfolded in Jon’s head again. Jaime Lannister had been brought in to the hall. The guards had detained him, but Brienne of all people had vouched for him. And Jaime had spurted it all out, that Cersei would not come North. _Not that I would have expected her to come_. “I don’t care if you were tired and exhausted, you should not have said that in the hall for all to hear.”

He was not done with cursing yet. He yelled at Sam again. “Of all the times to bring up my real father, that was it? That was the right time? Everybody riled up against Targaryens, Daenerys flown off to the South to punish Cersei and you had to just drop that I’m a Targaryen as well?”

Jon took a deep breath. It felt somehow odd to vent his anger against the snowflakes that fell so gently. It was as if he should not dare to spoil the sereneness of the falling snowflakes with his shouting, but he kept on after he had regained his breath.

“You never were my father! You kept me in the dark all those years. Would you have carried that to your grave? Even if Joffrey would not have had your head? Why did you not tell me? Why did you not tell me?” Would the whiteness of the snow be stained by his words?

“I would have done everything differently. I wanted …” Jon stopped himself. _I so wanted to be your trueborn son._ Tears pricked his eyes and he shook his head angrily.

Suddenly Ghost was at his side and pressed himself to his side again. Jon bent down, his vision blurred. He almost overheard the slight crunching noise of steps. He looked up.

Sansa was standing a few feet from him, her face wary. She held a blanket in her hand and a mug of steaming ale in the other.

“You must be cold,” she said. “You’ve been outside for ages. Ghost was worried, I think. He fetched me.” Her voice had a softness to it that struck a chord in Jon.

He got up and as if drawn against his will he took the few steps towards her. He tried to look just at a point beside her, so that her face would be outside his vision, only her red hair glowing at the side of his gaze. It had become a habit. It was just too dangerous to look at her face.

Ghost shoved him from behind and in his tiredness, he missed a step. When he regained his balance, Sansa had shifted, and his gaze fell directly on her face. _That was a mistake._

He looked in her blue eyes and somehow his anger bled out of him and his thoughts fled. The voices were reduced to a whisper. He felt like he was empty, drained of almost every emotion, just that peculiar feeling he associated with Sansa. A yearning, an ache in his heart, the welcome feel of home. _Love, it’s love. And I’ve known it for some time. There is no reason to fight it, not now. The only blessing that came with Bran’s words._

She handed him the blanket. “Please, Jon, I don’t want you to catch your death.”

_My second death, you mean._

Still, he said nothing, but put the blanket about him. It still held some warmth from Sansa’s body and he reached for the steaming mug.

“Have they come to a decision what to do with the Targaryen in their midst?”, he asked. Sansa just nodded. Her eyes were intent on his face.

“They deposed you.” she said, her voice devoid of the softness that had been in it earlier.

Jon shrugged. “I expected as much. I had thought they would already depose me when I arrived with Daenerys. They only kept faith, because you spoke for me.”

A slight frown appeared on Sansa’s forehead. “You expected to be ousted a fortnight ago? Did you expect Daenerys to honour her pledge to help the North anyway?”

Jon sighed. “Yes, I did. I thought I had ensured that she would help me against the White Walkers no matter what. No matter what would happen in the South or no matter if the Lords would vote against me as a king.”

Sansa looked at him in earnest. “You were wrong“, she said. “Her war for the throne was more important.”

Jon hung his head. “I see that now. If only Jaime Lannister had not blundered. Once she was engaged against the Walkers, she would have stayed.”

“What will she do when she comes back? How will she react to you being the heir of Rhaegar?” Sansa asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I doubt she’ll take it kindly, she is not very trusting.”

There was a moment of silence. “I should probably leave, so that you are not in danger.”

Sansa shook her head as if in anger. “Don’t,” she whispered. “We’ll work something out. We will protect you. You belong to us.”

Jon scoffed. “No, I don’t. I’m not a Stark.”

“You still have Stark blood. My father raised you better than to deny him.” Sansa scowled. Jon felt a slight tingle in his hands, as if the mug of ale had awakened the feeling in his numb hands. ‘ _I’ll tell you about your mother’._ It was a very faint whisper in his head.

“She’ll see me as a threat. I’d better leave.” He said.

Sansa grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare leave again. I forbid it.” Jon gaze fell on her gloves on his arms. Drops of ale had fallen into the snow. He looked up and wanted to drown in her eyes.

He drew a ragged breath. “You can’t prevent me.”

Sansa blushed. “If I give the order, my men will detain you, but I won’t force you.”

“Your men?”

Sansa blinked, and Jon thought he saw tears in her eyes. “They made me Queen.” she confessed in low voice, her hands dropping to her side again.

Jon gave a short and choppy laugh. “They chose well. You’ll make the right decisions.” he said. He missed the feel of her hand on his arm, it was as if his arm suddenly was colder again. “I’m glad you did not send anybody else to tell me.”

“Nobody else wanted to.” Sansa studied his face. “Arya is incredibly angry, that you haven’t told any of us, that you are aunt Lyanna’s son.”

“You are not angry”, Jon observed.

“No,” Sansa shook her head. “It was as if some things suddenly made sense,”. She blushed heavily. “And I think I know why you kept silent. You didn’t want Daenerys to learn that you have a better claim. It would have ruined everything.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I could see that you held her affection. I doubt there’ll be anything left of that now.”

Jon tried to school his face. _I was so relieved at the news and so frightened._

“It was all for nothing anyway. I could not influence her as much as I thought I could.” In his ears he could hear the faint echo of a creaking door. _How I blundered! Would I have knocked at that door, even if I knew about Rhaegar? It seemed so important to get her on our side._

“Thanks to Jaime Lannister,” Sansa observed.

“What else did the Lords decide?” Jon asked. “Did they exile me? Or am I allowed to stay in Winterfell at your sufferance?”

“Do you want the gist of it or shall I tell you all in detail?”, Sansa asked.

Jon searched her face, a sudden ache in his heart. _I’ll make her see reason. She must send me away. It’s too dangerous. I’ll have to leave and divert Daenerys. It’s the only way._

“Make it short.” he pleaded.

“They named me queen, and the council decided on a plan. I don’t know, if I should tell you their plan.” Sansa explained.

“They want me to leave,” Jon said.

Sansa shook her head. She bit her lip and looked down and Jon had the sudden urge take her head in his hands and to run his thumb over her lip. He pressed the mug in his hand. _I’ll do what is best for her, for the North, for Winterfell. If only they are safe._

Sansa suddenly raised her gaze to his eyes, there were tears on her lashes. “There were some who wanted you to leave, so that Daenerys’ wrath and her dragons would not come upon us. But Bran and Arya backed me, when I said, that we would not send you away under any circumstances. Bran told us, that she’ll come anyway. He had a vision.”

Jon groaned. “Bran said, she’ll come anyway?”

Sansa nodded, but she did not continue, and they stood silent.

“And what exactly is the plan?”, Jon finally asked.

“Sam suggested it. We still need weapons against the White Walkers. You have dragon blood. They want you to use your dragon blood. You go, ride a dragon and defend us. Bran says it is our only chance.” Sansa’s voice was shaky.

That was not what Jon had expected. He stood still and tried to understand.

“They want me to steal a dragon? How would I do that?” Jon asked. “Remember, Daenerys flew them to King’s Landing.”

Sansa looked at him astonished. “Jon, haven’t you heard?”

“What?” he snapped. _All I’ve heard today were voices in my head._

As if in answer he heard a screeching voice. _Why haven’t I heard that?_  He must have grown accustomed to the voices of the dragons while he was at Dragonstone. He thought he could tell that it was not Drogon, but Rhaegal. He shuddered why he would know this.

“One has returned.” His voice sounded flat in his own ears, but he wanted to cry, even if he could not tell why.

“He’s been flying around Winterfell since the morning.”

“And you are the only one willing to tell me that my best friend and my bro… my cousin who has visions want me to risk my life?”

He was close enough to see the tears in Sansa’s eyes. She pressed her hands together.

“You could hardly expect Bran to run after you. And Sam is not himself, he even suggested killing Daenerys by poison if she ever came to Winterfell again.”

Jon edged closer, he raised his hand and touched her where a tear made its way down her cheek. “And you?”, he whispered. “What do you want me to do?”

Sansa took a shuddering breath. “We are all in danger, Daenerys will descend on Winterfell in anger once she hears of your claim. We can’t possibly detain all her retinue. And then there are the Walkers. They’ll come upon us any moment.”

She shook herself “And yet the only thing I want from you right now, is for you to explain me, why  you didn’t tell me about your father. Bran told me you’ve known for days.”

“You just told me you understand, that I did not want to endanger the alliance.” Jon said.

“That doesn’t really explain, why you didn’t tell **me**.” Sansa snapped.

“That would have been to dangerous.” Jon tried to explain.

“I would have kept your secret, you must know that.”

Jon edged even closer. “I did not fear that you’d tell it. I feared what it would mean for us.”

He could feel Sansa’s gaze penetrating his, all the way down to the place where his heart was aching.

“Us?” Sansa asked, her voice almost indiscernible.

“Us,” Jon nodded.

“Why did you fear?” Sansa asked. Her eyes did not leave his face.

“I’ve buried my feelings deep for a long time. I feared what would happen, if they came to the surface. I feared you would detest me…. I detested myself before I knew you are not my sister.” Jon did not know where his sudden courage came from.

For a long moment Sansa stared at him, her face obscured by the occasional snowflake. Then, suddenly with a soft cry Sansa moved into his arms, knocking the mug out of his hands. Her lips met his in an awkward rush, and their noses bumped. She shied back, when Jon had to laugh, and held her nose, but he grabbed her hand and drew her closer. Their lips found each other again, and Jon was flooded with sudden warmth at the soft feel of her lips and her body so close to his. Somehow the blood rushed through his veins, warming him and leaving him light-headed and filled with a sudden burst of hope.

“I don’t want you to leave, Jon,” Sansa whispered into his lips. “I don’t want you to die.”

Jon took her hands in his and held them to his heart. “Not, if you will have me, Sansa. I’ll face this dragon, not because the Lords want me to do it, but for you. I’ll ride him and bend him to my will. I will defend you and Winterfell. We will endure.”


End file.
